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Walking After Midnight    (Continued)

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The dark, leafless trees reach out toward the sky like treacherous spears. My ears twitch, hoping to hear something that will give me some warning of a creature, but the night is silent. The creatures of the night are sleeping, half blanketed in perfidious shadows. Somewhere far away a wolf bays to the moon as though begging for mercy from the strange men and unholy machines that shoot out inharmonious bits of metal like fireworks.

They are well hidden and they are ruthless. They stalk the wolf surreptitiously, footsteps falling softly onto the earth, a shadow chasing a shadow. They know that the wolf cannot see them as I cannot see the night. It is too dark. I slide off the bench and walk barefoot in the garden, the grass tickling at my feet. It makes me smile because it gives me a sense of ataraxia in the chilly night air.

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